


Peachy Margarita and Cherry Sling

by Abyssiniana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, First Love, Keith's dad is called James Daniel Kogane, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Romance, Shiro is a Peach farmer, The Koganes are Cherry farmers, fem!sheith, questionable fantasies about peaches, the lesbian Sheiths we all needed & wanted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssiniana/pseuds/Abyssiniana
Summary: It'smy girlfriend'sbirthday today! Happy birthday, my starlight. Love you so much!__«Before, Summer tasted like cherries. But not anymore. Not after her.»





	Peachy Margarita and Cherry Sling

**Author's Note:**

> I opted by not changing their names, because that's what the gf & I do in our headcanons.

It disturbed Keith to witness it. Made her uncomfortable in her own skin, had her repositioning on the chair and blowing the fringe away from her face.

After a while, she decided to look away, arms crossed over her flat chest as she leaned back in her seat, but it didn’t take long until her starlit gaze met the woman once more as if drawn to her by the hand of fate.

The weekend summer fair was slow, at least on Keith’s side. On top of her booth, several categories of cherries were exposed, all produced by Pop and Ma, who owned an orchard of beautiful cherry trees that grew up to nine meters high on the backyard of their home. Regular customers came around out of routine and asked Keith to weigh a certain amount of Chelain, Lapins, Morello, Sweetheart cherries, whatever they most fancied. Keith had an eye to pick out the best of the batch and the customers left with a heavy bag and a smile on their faces.

But traffic was slower than usual and Keith had figured out the reason.

From across the street, a peach vendor sold her peaches in the best way for the business: by personally demonstrating how tasty they were. 

Juice ran down the woman’s chin, tongue stopping the trail to bring the sweetness back to her mouth. The chewing was slow, patient, unrushed, the fruit melting since was already ripe.  _ That’s the way to eat a peach _ , someone in the crowd might have said at some point, or Keith just made that up on the spot, but it was mesmerizing to witness the way someone’s throat bobbed as the peach was swallowed after being tossed and crushed and tasted and devoured.

She bit on a peach, and Keith — _ breathless _ — was left to wonder.

_ Is a peach more than a fruit? _

**_“The peach represents youth and immortality. It symbolizes the continuous process of renewal of life, and the peach flower - spring, feminine charm, softness, peace, wedding, and also virginity and purity.”_ **

A bite is ferocious, desperate, certain, on the tender and velutinous skin of the peach. The woman before her made it seem delicate and attentive, while also messy, so careless as the nectar dropped to stain her shirt! The paradox was maddening yet it left Keith insatiably curious. 

She got up from the stand at the fair and walked to the competition, a frown adorning her face as the wind shamelessly peeked under her white shorts.

“Hello there,” the woman saluted with a big welcoming smile —one that was bound to stick in Keith’s memory. She wiped the corner of her mouth to the back of her hand and then extended it, tempting Keith with the peach. “Want a bite?”

Keith had never eaten a peach before. The Kogane family farm was known for the most delicious cherries in the state, and she would die before she accepted that any other fruit deserved the spotlight at the Summer Fair over Pop and Ma’s beautiful cherries. 

Of course her diet consisted of other fruits since cherries are seasonal and not even a strong stomach like hers could counter the physiological effects of  _ too many cherries _ , but Keith would take the bait, she supposed.  _ Just this once. _

“Do you like them classic or sweeter?” To go with her cryptic question, two peaches with some physical differences were held up on both of her hands —one arm made of metal. “You see, the golden interior of the yellow peach is rather acidic, but if you have a sweet tooth, I’d recommend the white peach. While more easily bruised and fragile, they hold the best flavor.”

_ What was the big deal about these dumb peaches anyway? _

“Here,” the woman called Keith to the side of the selling booth, holding up the palest peach with her human hand. “Just chomp on it!”

Keith licked her lips; it  _ looked _ yummy, the tears of the juice tracing roads down the woman’s wrist and forearm, inviting patterns with hypnotizing powers. The girl shook her head and lounged forward, barely nibbling on it. It was soft and velvety, but the bite only allowed her to scrape the pink blush skin off of the fruit.

_ Weird. _

The woman laughed. It was a beautiful, warm laugh, that had Keith deviating her look.

“How are you supposed to properly enjoy a peach if you’re concerned with making a mess? Don’t hold back. Go on.”

The second bite was deprived of any care, unscrupulous and wild as if she had something to prove, it was a pure plunge into the pleasure of a foreign flavor, dancing across her taste buds. Like her smile, it was sunny; like her eyes, it was gentle; like her touch, however brief, it was exotic.

Just as it had happened to the lady, the mouth wasn’t able to hold the juice and it dripped from the corner of her lips. She tried to suckle it, to follow the path, and ended up tonguing at the woman’s hand.

“That’s it,” the peach lady urged, a giggle hidden behind a short corner smirk, “Eat it up, sweety.”

Heavens, it was delicious. Ultimately the flavor described what Summer felt like across seventeen years of her life. It was warm and long, short nights and never ending days of poolside and riverside and countryside and sun and shade. It tasted of strawhats and beads of sweat, of the exclusive constellations (Aquila, Cygnus, Hercules, Lyra, Ophiuchus, Sagittarius and Scorpius).

Before, Summer tasted like cherries.

Not anymore. Not after  _ her _ .

Keith’s eyes opened —and that was when she realized she had them closed— and she gasped in silence.

“So? How was it?” The woman, hair impossibly white and aura impossibly bright asked.

Keith’s feet traced their way out of there, away,  _ away from her _ , from the seduction of another bite. Even if the taste remained, dancing across her palate as she distanced herself from a new kind of temptation.

* * *

Dreaming of peaches is a good omen. Keith had to type it on Google to be sure, the slow browser on her QWERTY phone brightening her face as she read:

**_“Peach dreams are good omens for emotions and love. Dreaming of peaches is a good dream – even if you don't like peaches! Dreaming of gathering them or picking them from a tree is a sign of love blooming. This is true as well if you see a peach blossom or a tree with peach blossoms.”_ **

She watched as the screen of the phone gave in to low battery and turned in bed, to the side, and then flopping on the mattress with her belly up again. Her eyes closed in attempt to give in to sleep but to no avail. 

Peaches… Peaches were beautiful and sweet and soft.

_ She is too.  _

Keith thought of the taste; fantasized about it, almost. She thought of the woman’s hand and how firmly they held the peach without bruising it as Keith devoured it. She recalled the taste of the woman’s skin when Keith licked the slipping juice off of her wrist, and imagined it in a different context. Her hand slipped under the thin sheet and pushed the elastic of her panties aside, her center burning with the need for attention.

In her mind, she cracked a peach open. She saw the skin slide off of the fruit, the luscious flesh glistening with a silent invitation — _ she thought of the peach lady too, no older than early twenties, of her eyes and her defined face, the cutting edge of her jaw, her arms more muscular than any woman Keith had seen _ — and she ran her finger across it. Feeling it. Tasting it with her fingertips.

The veins of the peach were red under the pale interior, the juice dripping to her sheets — _ oh no, no, no.  _ She imagined the woman doing it. Being the one to push her panties aside, tracing her labia and feeling her pulsing—the lump of the peach. Keith saw the woman rubbing it, in her head, her sleep and control deprived head, first with her mechanic fingers, and then her tongue.

Peaches were warmed by the sun and wet from the dew.

The woman would suckle it, nibble it and devour her just like one of her sinful peaches.

_ Please. Please… Keith begged. _

**_Do it._ **

With the moonlight resting on her uncovered thigh, Keith’s fingers were damp, cunt dripping and throbbing with the aftermath of her orgasm. Her mouth was open as she gathered her breath and turned to the side to finally sleep some more.

In the morning, she wouldn’t be able to tell… Had the dream been about peaches, or had it been about  _ her _ ? 

* * *

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kogane! Hope you enjoy your peaches!” 

_ No. It couldn’t be. _

Keith came down the stairs on a morning that lazed into lunch time a little too fast for someone who had just woken up. Each of her steps was a loud stomp on a wooden staircase, as she rushed to meet the source of the female voice on her kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” She spat without any hint of politeness when the peach lady waved at her. The smile was the same from the past weekend, the stretch of her mouth resembling the tartness that mellows as a peach ripens and softens

“Sorry ‘bout that, my baby girl’s grumpy when she gets up late, ain’t that right, Keith?” Pop excused, his arm coming to hang around Keith’s shoulders. “This is Shiro, pup. Says she met you at the fair and came by to drop off some of her peaches, since ye liked ‘em so much.”

“You left before I could offer you some,” Shiro lamented, “And your Dad traded for a box of your lovely cherries!”

Keith’s vision finally assimilated her surroundings, a crate of cherries laid on the kitchen table, right next to the equivalent amount of peaches on a second crate. It was then that she noticed the sleeve of her pajama slipping down her shoulder, her feet bare on the wooden floor, her hair messier than a rat’s nest.

“I see,” she muttered, embarrassment painting her face red. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you up, Keith. I was about to leave anyway.”

“Oh, ye don’t wanna stay for lunch?” James was the one to invite.

“I’d love to, sir, but I’m expected in the next town in an hour! This little grocery shop is interested in selling my peaches!"

Keith grimaced, mimicking Shiro’s words with her tongue out.  _ Blah blah, my peaches are oh so good— _

**_But they are._ **

“Some other time, then. Come by whenever.” The Koganes showed her out, the youngest of the family with a knit frown on her face and not another word coming through her lips. Out of guilt, perhaps some shame?

She wondered, though, what Shiro would think—

“Thank you for everything! Uh… Later, Keith!”

“Bye.” She grumbled.

As soon as Shiro drove her car around the turn at the end of the road, James playfully slapped the back of his daughter’s head and walked back into the house.

“Pop!” She whined. “T’was that for?!”

“Be polite to yer friends, Keith,” he advised, picking a round peach from the offered batch and helping himself to it. “Specially the ones that bring us stuff for free.”


End file.
